You can read Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 here…welcome to The River:
Caroline hesitated, her legs suddenly unwilling to move, and he stepped out of the way with a ladies first flourish, and caught her hand, pulling her up in front of him. “Shall we?”
She could feel his eyes riveted on her long legs as they climbed the stairs. The little black dress she wore had been an amazing choice. It was short enough to make a man immediately think about what she was hiding under the hemline and it was open enough in the front and back to give said man a clear view of her pale skin and large breasts that waited just below the surface. She was not a waif with budding girlish breasts, not a silly little twenty-two-year-old college floozy looking for a sugar daddy and unsure how to behave in public or in bed. She was a real woman, a woman who had probably not ventured into the areas he liked to explore, but a woman who knew something of herself and her body, emotionally stable and mature, the perfect candidate for what he had proposed and she was here to accept.
At the top of the stairs, another man dressed just like the bartender waited and escorted them to their seats, a cushy sofa-like wrap-around seat in the corner that overlooked the street. Ethan sat to Caroline’s right. “Bring my bottle of Elijah, please Arthur.” The thin black man bowed and hurried away, leaving them alone again. When he was out of earshot, Ethan turned to Caroline and spoke. “So, here we are. A fine afternoon, and we’ll have some of my favorite whiskey to celebrate.”
She swallowed, suddenly nervous, and grabbed the ivory napkin from the table, squeezing it in her hands while she fought the unexpected butterflies. Walking in and walking to meet him had been so easy, so carefree. She fussed with the napkin, spreading it out on her lap in an effort to conceal her nerves.
He watched her intently, his face and voice as easy as they always were. “Just relax and let’s talk,” he continued, and he reached out and put his hand on hers. When she didn’t jerk away, he smiled to himself.
“What do you want to talk about?” Her voice was quiet, like a whisper; she could barely get the words out, and she looked toward the door, hoping the man would return with the whiskey soon. She needed a drink. It was too late to get up and go, to run away, wasn’t it?
“Well, you, of course. Since you’re here, I guess it’s safe to say that you’ve accepted my offer, that you had no other recourse to save yourself.”
“I don’t know.” She could feel his eyes on her, his hand on hers, but she dared not look over. For the moment, it was best to just hold onto the napkin and wait. Whatever would come next was, she realized, no longer up to her.
“Ted is gone, Caroline.”
“Maybe. I haven’t heard anything, but the police say there’s no evidence of a crime, and now, well…”
“And the collectors? Still calling?”
She looked away, searching the room, digging her nails into her palms. She hoped he wouldn’t notice, but…
“Threats?”
She didn’t want to think it. She’d changed her number now twice, turned off her cell phone during the day.
“Your husband was mixed up with some deviants, I should think, Caroline. I’d offer that it’s for the best that you didn’t know that, but under the current circumstances, I can understand how you might not agree.” Her hands were ice cold under his warm palm, and he could feel the trembling, as much as she tried to hold it in. She was almost ready. He knew it was a done deal, and he would seal that deal tonight. “It’s best that we leave him be, forget what he’s done—for your and your daughter’s sake.”
“Don’t talk about my daughter,” she snapped, her head jerking toward him, a flash of anger in her eyes overriding the fear that had pooled there a moment before. And then suddenly, her look softened. She hadn’t meant to lash out. This was her decision, and Casey would be wholly left out of it.
“No, I understand. You’re correct in telling me that. It’s quite alright.” He squeezed her hand, thankful that she hadn’t yanked it away, created some distance between them, but he’d need to push her just a little bit more. She needed to understand the situation. “But let’s be frank. Both of you need to be protected and taken care of. You don’t want her to know too much, and she seems to be blissfully ignorant right now. Let’s keep it that way, shall we? At least about our arrangement. As for what you say to her about her father, who I gather she can’t abide, that’s your business. But in the meantime, we will get these loan sharks and whatnot off your back, keep them away from your life, and see about setting you up with something more than what you had before.”
Caroline managed a little smile then, trying to feel happy about what was transpiring, but the nervousness was lingering, and she knew that with each passing moment, she was coming closer to agreeing to his bargain.
“A dress shop near the Quarter. I want to design wedding dresses.” She looked away and then back at him. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
Ethan smiled. “Gorgeous, willing and creative on top of it all. What more could I ask?”
She nodded, unsure of what to say. She’d been prepared to answer the question; he’d left it with her the last time they’d spoken. “What can I give you to sweeten the deal?” She’d thought about it all week, and she’d finally realized it was time to do something for herself and resurrect an old dream. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but it was one that she’d work to her advantage if she could—he certainly would. This way she felt she could do something more than receive the security he offered and hopefully ensure that he wasn’t taking full advantage of her, even if she was just fooling herself. They’d spoken at length about what would need to be done in order to get her out from under the disaster that was her husband’s doing. It would be no simple thing and no inconsiderable sum that would satisfy the people who would happily track her and her daughter down and murder them as examples of what happens when you borrow from the wrong sorts — husband or no husband; they wanted their money. But Ethan was a businessman, and while he often contributed to charity, he never gave anything away, certainly not three quarters of a million dollars to pay off a debt he hadn’t racked up, not to mention more in pay-offs, protection and simple living expenses. The Anthony’s lived in an expensive apartment with expensive things, and he would not be the one to take those things away from Caroline either. He actually liked the idea of helping her realize her dream. Only, it wouldn’t come for free.
She’d have to earn it, pay for it in a way, give of herself for her mistakes and her own ignorance and inattentiveness. Caroline couldn’t and hadn’t denied her accessory to the crime, so to speak. She’d let her husband go about his business and not given it another thought, basking in the opulence and leisure and never taking an active role in the managing of their household. Now, she would be the breadwinner and the manager of a household and a business. She would earn her keep, only she would earn it his way.
“Just a little shop. I’ve always wanted to design dresses.” She swallowed again, feeling like a little girl asking her father for something, knowing that he could easily turn her down, dash her dreams with a simple world.
“Not a problem. We can totally do that,” said Ethan, just as the champagne arrived. “I’ll have my lawyers find a place for you, and we’ll acquire it, find suppliers, etc. You’ll be set. We’ll have you up and running in, say, six months? All you’ve got to do is your part.” He was staring at her now, but her eyes were across the room again, far away somewhere he could only imagine. Six months. He’s set it out there, a start date for her, which seemed entirely reasonable, given the effort it took to make the arrangements for marketing and suppliers, buyers even — he could arrange some early buyers. He would show her the premises, introduce her to the local businesses that would sell her silks and beading and lace — whatever dressing materials she needed, and then he would remind her that none of it would be hers if she didn’t complete her contract.
The loan sharks and bill collectors would be long gone, but the threat over her head would remain.
The cork popped, and sparkling liquid splashed into his flawless crystal flute, but he paid it no mind, knowing that the server was waiting by the table for him to sample it. Right now, Ethan was content to focus on his prize, and the moment was at hand. “Are you ready?”
She swallowed, feeling the sudden heat of his hand on hers, the way he looked at her and what his question said to her. This was going to happen, and with some luck, it would bring her everything she wanted. All she had to do was say—“Yes.”
He nodded, and then the smile came again, this time a little less glowing, a little less ‘kid in the candy store’, more subdued, like the cat that had the injured bird cornered. “Let’s seal the deal with a kiss,” he mustered, his eyes darting from her pale green eyes to her deep red lips, and then he leaned in.
She met him halfway, her lips crushing his, the moment come and gone, the deal done, and she felt both the sudden release of pressure and a massive wave of pleasure building up. Their tongues danced briefly, and then he broke contact. She opened her eyes and watched as he reached up and slipped the strap of her dress down, exposing her breast and cupping it. The heat of his hand as he seemed to weigh the heaviness of it for a moment, a hungry look on his face, and then he stroked her pert nipple with his thumb. She squeezed her legs together, bit her lip. It had been so long since it wasn’t her hands on her own body, and now, the deal done, he would have complete and total access to her at any time. No more late nights alone. No more long afternoons of masturbation on the easy chair by the balcony. Now someone who wanted to touch her would be there to do so, only how and when were no longer up to her.
Leaning back against the crush of the navy velour, she closed her eyes and let him caress and tease her. She felt a tug as he released her other breast. It didn’t matter that the server was still watching, only that she felt the terrific rush between her legs, that her nipples were responding and her breaths were coming in rapid succession. It was done. She was no longer in control. She’d already signed the contract and sent it to his estate by messenger. Her arrival here had sealed it. He owned her—a slave to the Kingfisher Estate for the period of one year.
I’m loving this plot 😉